


A Look Back

by Wendigo_E17



Series: The Argus Continuity [2]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Death, Hope, Peace, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:00:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21633301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wendigo_E17/pseuds/Wendigo_E17
Summary: A collection of one-shot stories for the 'Destcember' prompt, exploring several characters of the Argus Continuity and their experiences within the world of Destiny.
Series: The Argus Continuity [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1547491
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	A Look Back

**_Somewhere in the Steppes, Old Russia, Earth_ **

**_1st of December, 2869_ **

**_Around 345 years before the events of_ ** **Destiny 1...**

The forend of the auto rifle was melted to the barrel, and the bolt carrier was jammed in such a way that the weapon wouldn’t ever fire. The Guardian gnawed at his lower lip, before taking the weapon by the blistering hot barrel and swung it effortlessly into the head of the closest Dreg that fell on him. The smaller Fallen body crippled almost immediately, it’s carapace snapping as ether leaked from the breach before the Guardian pulled sharply away from the dead Fallen corpse whose upper arms seized the weapon greedily. 

The Guardian slumped his heavy shoulders, looking at the mound of Fallen corpses that collected at his feat. He scanned them cautiously, noting the bullet-holes that riddled no less than forty arachnids. The Guardian looked down at his white gauntlets that were completely soaked in purplish blood and burnt with black burns and sprinkled with black soot. 

“Think there are any more coming?” The Guardian asked quietly, finally wrestling free the now defunct weapon from the Dreg’s grasp.

“I doubt it.” A Ghost materialised, looking toward his Guardian, “I think they got the message.”

“Heh.” The Guardian scoffed, pulling back with considerable effort on the bolt carrier handle. A flaming and corrupting shell ejected from the port, as the weapon struggled to function properly. Knocking the magazine from the weapon that was covered in the same grime that painted the Guardian’s armour.

“I think it is going to take more than field repair to fix ‘her.” The Guardian finally said, giving up all prospects of repairing the weapon.

“Same could be said for your armour, Avgust.” The Ghost replied.

Avgust looked down at his armour, which was ruined with dents and bruises. Several points of the armour were breached, and countless straps and buckles were either torn or bust. Points of his servo joints flickered with warning lights, and in others were completely disabled. Over twelve campaigns in his Gatewatch Type 1 armour, against the Fallen… and now it has reached it’s expiration. 

“Shame, treated me very well.” Avgust responded, “Perhaps it is time I get a new coat of paint.”

The Ghost rolled his eye, “That’s one way of putting it.”

“Come now, not much use carrying a broken rifle and fielding less than ideal armour.”

* * *

Avgust threw the disposable towel into the fire pit, watching the blood that he cleaned off of his armour curl as it was consumed by the burn. The Titan sat atop his camping chair, striking off parts of his damaged armour that he knew would be useful in his next design. Avgust had been trained extensively in armour craft and repair, but he knew as well as any other Titan that sometimes they would need to retire desperate systems. 

Avgust tossed one of the broken plates in a pile which collected, before looking down at his stripped down set of armour. He examined at all the internal compartmentalisation, heavy wiring and servo joints and the heat sinks for the kinetic barriers that most Guardians employed. The Titan went through to ensure that all these areas had been figured, and cleared these areas of the soot or damage that would have inhibited his ability. 

Setting out the plates he could use, the Titan went through to reattach vital figures. With the assistance of Svarog, his Ghost, he sealed components and set down the bimetal composite plates. One thing was certain about Titan armour: the upkeep was the most painstaking out of all the Guardian orders, taking anywhere from hours to days for full-body repairs to weeks for a new set’s construction. They were much like walking tanks, and though tanks required attention, their effectiveness was unparalleled.

“Only about thirty percent of this armour is salvageable,” Svarog concluded, “we’re going to need to put in an order for new plates, at least.”

“The carrier frame is fine, perhaps a few repairs are necessary…” Avgust sighed, “but indeed. We will require new plates.”

“It’ll take a big sum of marks; sometimes I wonder whether or not it was worth allowing you to be a Titan.”

“Do not think you had a choice,” Avgust chuckled, “it will take days for an order to be process, but we should be fine.”

“Which means returning to the City?”

Avgust sat quietly, looking down at the pile of scrap beside his fire pit. It had been a few weeks since he stood atop the Walls of the City, since he had visited the Tower and reported to his commanding officers in person. Work within the Pilgrim Guard was not the easiest, requiring Titans to set off across Earth’s lost lands in search of the survivors of the Collapse. It brought him in conflict with the Fallen more times than he could count the past few weeks, and required him to compete and scatter several of their raiding parties. The Titan believed it blessed him with perspective and experience, to understand the necessity of his purpose as a Guardian of the City.

After all, he knew that the safety of the Wall only offered so much when enemies loomed beyond the gates.

“I suppose it has been long enough.” Avgust responded, looking down at his broken rifle. Things happened to a rifle when it fired four times the amount of ammo that should have been fired at any given time, he knew that better than most any other Guardian. But if it meant one less blade that was held against their throat.

Then it was worth it.


End file.
